


In the Blood and Bones

by LanadelBeyoncePuncher



Series: In the Blood and Bones [1]
Category: League of Legends RPF
Genre: Biting, Hurt/Comfort, It's not really sexy its just carnal, M/M, Starvation, Vampite AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-05
Updated: 2017-10-05
Packaged: 2019-01-09 04:55:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12269331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LanadelBeyoncePuncher/pseuds/LanadelBeyoncePuncher
Summary: After staving off the desire to feed on blood for far too long, Dennis awakens to his life as a vampire by doing the one thing he feared most: attacking his best friend.





	In the Blood and Bones

**Author's Note:**

> Shit let's get spoopy with some vampires.

Dennis wasn't sure when the Hunger began, but it began haunting him sometime after his twentieth birthday.

 

It had come on gradually at first. Sometimes Dennis would find himself a little hungrier than usual. His solution was to take a third helping of lunch or dinner instead of just seconds. He’d feel full to the point of bursting after that, and it was enough to settle the odd outcropping of hunger in his stomach. Before long, the hunger persisted even after he’d taken a third portion of dinner. Dennis would increase his protein, his carbs, even his sugar in the hopes he could his body to stop making his gut twist into painful knots. Nothing seemed to help. He came to a conclusion that it must have been some kind of hormonal thing. His body still changing and growing stronger with daily trips to the gym meant it was probably a change in his body. It would probably sort itself out in due time.

 

That hope was soon snuffed out when Dennis began to feel hungry almost all day and night. His stomach ached and burned with unrelenting Hunger regardless of what the jungle consumed. He had decided to just ignore it, and eventually it would go away. After all, besides the painful clenching of his gut, Dennis was still able to function and eat like a normal person. What harm could a little waiting do?

 

* * *

 

A few months transitioned into a year and Dennis’ unbearable Hunger was starting to become a problem.

 

Normal food was...making him feel ill. When he went out to eat with the other members of TSM for their victory meals, Dennis had found that the caesar salad he normally chowed down tasted funny. The dressing too oily, the lettuce bland as cardboard, and the chicken rubbery and overcooked. He leaned to his right and gently nudged Søren’s shoulder to grab his attention at the time and ask for his second opinion.

 

“Søren, do you think this tastes weird?” He whispered softly as the pale, blonde haired mid laner curiously poked his fork into Dennis’ salad and tasted it for himself.

 

“Mm, no? Seems pretty normal to me,” he remarked, going back to his own bowl of pasta after the brief taste test.

 

Dennis nodded and looked down at the rather unappetizing salad before forcing himself to stab another forkful of the tasteless vegetables. “Ah. Thanks,” he muttered around a mouthful of lettuce as Dennis pretended not to cringe through the rest of his meal.

 

* * *

 

Dennis was _starving._

 

He hated this feeling of being so unbearably empty inside, hated the churning of his stomach, hated how everything he ate tasted stale or overcooked and made him nauseous to no end. To make matters worse, his body seemed to be shutting down to a degree. young man found that he could barely go outside or to the gym because the sun’s strong rays made him feel so faint, Dennis could barely stand it. His Hunger was beginning to affect his ability to play League as well. After playing only one or two games, Dennis had to stagger away from his computer to force down a wave of nausea in the bathroom before returning to his seat. It was exhausting. It was degrading. It was annoying beyond imagination. It also just happened that on one of his return trips, his stomach in knots, the unthinkable solution presented itself before Dennis.

 

Søren had cut his hand on a haphazardly cut piece of metal beneath his desk.

 

Dennis smelled it before he saw it. His head practically snapped to attention as he whirled in the blonde’s direction, already salivating heavily as he watched the thin line of red blood snake down Søren’s pale skin and drip onto the wooden floor.

 

“Ow. I didn't think the joint was that sharp,” Søren muttered as he raised the minor injury to his mouth to lap at the blood running down his hand.

 

Dennis could feel his own heart thudding heavily against his chest, pounding and pulsating with adrenaline as he watched Søren’s tongue swipe over the crimson liquid. His whole mouth heavy with Hunger, the dark haired main had finally managed to tear himself from his chair, throwing it harshly to the floor as he sprinted past Søren and the others, much to their confused dismay. He couldn’t hear their voices, just the roar of his own blood rushing through his ears.

 

_Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it._

 

Dennis pulled open his bedroom door and paced around the small space for a few moments before his stomach grumbled and forced him to double over in pain. He slowly crouched into a huddled form, clasping his hands over his ears, and rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. His stomach churned at the thought, at the _smell_ of rich blood flowing over his tongue and down into his stomach. He was so _hungry._

 

_Don’t think about it. Don’t think abou—_

 

“Dennis? Are you okay?”

 

Søren’s gentle voice cut through the jungler’s internal monologue as the cautious blonde stepped past the threshold of Dennis’ room and into the lair of the hungry beast. The mid laner was talking again, but this time his words fell on deaf ears as Dennis heard the beating of a heart which wasn't his own. He could hear it thump, thumping against the fragile structure of Søren’s body, like a tantalizing treat of muscle and blood.

 

Dennis slowly rose to his feet with Hunger gnawing at his insides and turned on Søren before he could make a sound.

 

Maybe Dennis should have brushed his teeth more carefully. Maybe he should have noticed how garlic made him incredibly sick. Maybe Dennis should have realized his increasingly nocturnal schedule had more to do with a supernatural affliction and not just a result of playing one too many games of league. Maybe then Dennis would have realized his incisors had turned to fangs which were now sunk deep into Søren’s neck.

 

The blonde stood stone still for a moment; too shocked to register what was happening to him as Dennis began draining the blood from his thin frame. Søren opened his mouth to scream, but Dennis’s large, cold hand clamped down before he could utter a single sound. Another arm wound around Søren’s waist to hold him in a perverse embrace against Dennis’ chest and keep the young man from stepping out of reach. The blonde scratched at Dennis’ hands and back, dug his fingers into the jungler’s cold skin, and moaned pitifully behind his hands in a vain attempt to dislodge himself from the newly awakened vampire draining his blood.

 

_Weak. Small. Prey._

 

Dennis thought as he listened intently to the fluttering pulse of Søren’s heart and tasted the tang of coppery blood flooding his mouth. It was better than any food Dennis had consumed for _weeks_ and it made the Hunger in his stomach shrivel up, like it hadn’t controlled his body for the past year. He couldn't stop. He needed _more._ Everything Søren could provide him, Dennis would take as his own. Yet, he could feel a nagging thread of morality tugging against his need to feed. A reminder that with every passing second Søren’s hands grew weaker against Dennis’ skin as a rough tremor of exhaustion robbed the blonde of his ability to properly stand, his full weight now resting on Dennis’ arm. He didn't _want_ to let go. He still wasn't satisfied. It was only when Søren’s hands had finally fallen limp, dragging along the dark haired man’s back as they fell to the mid laner’s side, that Dennis finally pulled away with a bloody squelch.

 

Søren looked liked he had just been murdered. Dennis panted heavily, still cradling the now unconscious man in his arms as he slowly crouched down and laid Søren on the carpet. His hands were cold as ice and his breathing was a shallow rise and fall of his chest against the white Teeshirt stained red with spilt blood from Dennis’ uncoordinated attack.

 

“Oh fuck. Shit, god, oh...Jesus…” Dennis cursed softly with panic creeping in at the edges of his now sated bodily hunger. How could he have done that? To Søren? His _best friend?_ Guilt hung across Dennis’ shoulders like a thick cloak as he ran his trembling fingers over the messy puncture and teeth wounds on Soren’s neck, feeling the barest hint of muscle against his fingertips as they came back coated in dark blood. Nearly gagging from the sight, Dennis leapt over Soren’s unconscious form, rushed down the hall, and skidded into the bathroom. He rifled through the cabinets for medical gauze and bandages to fix up the evidence of his attack, frantically pushing things aside and leaving faint trails of blood all over the mirror and sink before the jungle finally collected the supplies.

 

He was back at Soren’s side in the blink of an eye, wiping blood from his wound with a small washcloth to clear up the skin. A little rubbing alcohol and several layers of gauze later, Søren was looking less like he’d just been mauled, and more like he’d sustained a bad wound. Which, well, was fairly accurate in Dennis’ case. Pressing his head against the unconscious man’s chest, Dennis closed his eyes and waited with baited breath as he listened closely for the sound of a heartbeat, for Søren’s breathing, _anything_ to assure Dennis that he hadn’t just drained his best friend of life. After waiting for thousands of agonized seconds, Dennis realized that Søren was indeed breathing, albeit rather weakly for someone his size. He laughed bitterly to himself and rose to his knees as he shook his head.

 

“You must hate me now. I’d hate me,” the dark haired man muttered softly while glaring daggers at his hands pressed against the carpet leaving behind bloody smears along the fibers.

 

Disgusted with his own gruesome appearance, Dennis crept back to the bathroom to wash his hands and the rest of the enclosed space, frowning at his blood covered fangs and chin in the mirror as he washed his fingers clean. He looked like a monster straight out of a movie. A would be murderer, had he given into his instincts and drained Søren of every last drop of blood. Grabbing his toothbrush, Dennis painstakingly brushed away the blood coating his teeth and his lips, spitting out the pink foam with a grimace as he gripped the sink, his knuckles turned white. He should've had better control. He should’ve had better control over himself. Just one little cut on Søren’s hand was all it took to unravel the carefully constructed web of discipline Dennis had woven around himself, leaving him hanging by a thread in the search for sanity.

 

Eventually, he pulled himself away from the bathroom sink and slunk away to his room where Søren still rested against the floor, eyes closed and blood stained shirt pronouncing the horrors of Dennis’ impulsive decisions. With a heavy heart, Dennis knelt down and gently lifted Søren into his arms before laying him down in his own bed. He went about carefully propping his head on the pillows so it wouldn't cause his bite mark too much pain in his unconscious state. He sifted through his clothes and found an old shirt that was now a size too large for himself and swapped it with Soren’s bloody tee before tossing the ruined shirt into the trash. Tucking the bedsheets around the blonde’s thin body, Dennis shot a quick text to Regi informing him that he wasn't feeling well and that Søren was staying upstairs to take care of him for the time being. It brought back quite a few suspicious questions, but Dennis brushed them off for the time being as he sat at the foot of his bed to wait for Søren to regain consciousness.

  


Waiting for someone to wake up was horribly tedious, as Dennis soon discovered after almost an hour of sitting alone to twiddle his thumbs in uncomfortable silence. He couldn't leave Søren alone; what if he stopped breathing entirely and no one knew until Dennis returned to his bedroom to sleep? What if Søren woke up and panicked and called the cops? There was too much uncertainty swirling around in the jungler’s mind for him to even consider leaving the blonde’s side for more than a few minutes. He just had to hunker down and bear it for a while longer. He could do that, right? It was no different than waiting out enemy cc for the right time to Ult. Only he wasn't playing league and Søren looked like death and Dennis was low-key on the verge of having a panic attack as he looked over at Søren every five minutes or so.

 

After quite a bit of time, Søren finally stirred with a quiet grunt, opening his eyes and slowly focusing on Dennis seated at the foot of the bed, still wringing his hands anxiously on the fabric of his pants. The blonde moved forward to sit up, but the moment Søren attempted to do anything other than stay awake he found his body to be far too weak and cold to do much besides shiver.

 

“Dennis…? What happened?” Søren rasped softly as he watched the shorter man snap to attention and scoot closer so he could reach the blonde’s face.

 

“You um, passed out,” Dennis explained lamely, trying not to squirm under Søren’s immediately scrutiny.

 

“How?”

 

“Just did.”

 

“Then why does my neck feel like it’s been torn open?”

 

Dennis fell silent at the accusing question and turned his face away from the weak blonde as he mused over how to break the news to his teammate. Either it was going to go really well or really bad, so Dennis decided to hell with being subtle, and let his fangs slide out of his upper gums as he turned back to Søren with the newly formed fangs poking out over his lips.

 

Søren made an audible gasp and floundered weakly for a moment in visible fright at the razor sharp points of enamel hanging over Dennis’ bottom lip. They glinted like needles in the low light and it took everything in Søren’s power not to immediate start screaming for help. Dennis quickly pulled the teeth back in and clasped a hand over his mouth as he and Søren stared wordlessly at each other for several tense minutes. Finally, Søren slowly began to calm down as the reality of the situation sank in around him. His best friend was most certainly a vampire. Or at least, a monster with fangs. Great.

 

“Guess I’m not crazy, then,” Søren mused with a wry laugh. “So you’re a vampire now? Is that how this works?”

 

Dennis shrugged his shoulders with a noncommittal noise of wonder. He didn't know for _sure_ that his affliction was that of vampirism, only that his Hunger could be sated by consuming blood in a rather large quantity. In fact, he knew quite little about the whole situation in the first place.

 

“Sure. We’ll call it that,” the jungle eventually agreed when Søren stopped speaking to weakly pull his hand out from under the bedsheets and reach for Dennis’. “Aren’t you mad? Or scared? If I was in your place I’d be pretty pissed that my best friend mauled me out of the blue.”

 

Søren paused for a moment before he finally managed to grab a hold of Dennis’ hand and squeeze his fingers lightly. “No. I’m not mad. I was scared that you were gonna, you know, kill me, but I’m not mad at you. You seemed so dead inside for weeks now, I’m just glad you're kinda better. And not dying. Even though I think I saw my life pass before my eyes.”

 

“I am so, so sorry about that,” Dennis apologized as he gently held Soren’s cold, clammy hand in his own.

 

“I’ll survive. Thanks for worrying over me,” Søren insisted with a half-hearted smile. “How about next time we just...sit down and talk about the fact that you grew fangs overnight so I don't immediately suspect you’re going to murder me?”

 

“Yeah I, I think that’s for the best,” the dark haired man agreed. “Does that mean you’re not gonna tell everyone else I’m a monster?”

 

“What? Dude of course not. You're still my friend, I wouldn't just turn you over to the cops or anything like that. I swear on it,” Søren scoffed lightly as fatigue began to set in again. He pulled Dennis’ hand down to his chest, keeping it there as the blonde's eyes slowly fluttered closed.

 

“I’m tired,” he whined softly.

 

“Sorry.”

 

“Just stay here and make sure I wake up.”

 

“You want me to stay all night?” Dennis wondered aloud, much to Søren’s amusement as a small smile crept over the blonde’s face.

 

“Yeah, all night.”


End file.
